Confirming Destiny
by TheManiacOnWheels
Summary: No real summary aside from it being inspired by the newest DotD trailer. Reviews're appreciated.


Spyro had never really questioned his place in the world. He was a big, flightless dragonfly, and a small purple dragon that carried the fate of the world on his wings. Those were the two identities he had assumed in his young life, and they were what he clung to against that other, less appealing one. The one that felt cold and frightening and made him angry for no apparent reason. It whispered in his mind, as seductive as Cynder had sounded when she had been under its influence, yet as ancient and wise as the Chronicler. The enormity of it made the confines of his mind seem cavernous; filled with thousands of indistinct murmurings, screaming with inaudible cries for release, unanswerable by anyone.

When he was alone, Spyro would try not to think of this. He knew they could not physically harm him, nor anyone he cared about, but the torturous moaning pressed against his skull like an incurable headache, making him spread his wings and bare his fangs as though warding it off.

It was times like that that he longed for the comforting presence of Ignitus. The fire Guardian would know what to do, he always did. But Ignitus _wasn't _there. Hunter had patiently explained to him several times that he couldn't reveal where the four dragon Guardians had hidden themselves from the Dark One's presence, as a precaution against any unwanted ears that might be prying into their conversations, but it somehow didn't make him feel any more reassured that they were alive when he wasn't with them. They needed his help; now more than ever, and he needed theirs.

Sparx had become occupied with bluntly telling him he was paranoid.

Cynder…didn't say much. She padded along, remaining distant and sorrowful, unwilling to speak, deep in her thoughts. Spyro occasionally glimpsed a pained expression on her face whenever they passed through inhabited areas scoured and burned by the Dark One's infinite army, and found himself at a loss on what he might say to comfort her. That it wasn't her fault? That everything would be alright? She wouldn't be any more assured by that than he would be.

Spyro remembered the night when Hunter had admitted, head bowed, that the Malefor had returned to the mortal world. Spyro had _known _this, asking only to confirm the chill that encased his purple hide. He knew he needed to put an end to this. To stop The Dark One, forever, and end his reign. But to do that, he must face him.

He remembered what the Chronicler had said; eventually, there comes an obstacle that one cannot overcome with help, when you must surpass the challenge with nothing but your own skills. Destiny is a fickle thing that does not bend or waver for youth. Spyro _had _to kill Malefor, despite his inexperience, without Sparx. Without Ignitus. Without Cynder.

He didn't want to be, no, _feared_ being alone. As long as he could remember, Sparx had been by his side, his constant chatter efficiently dispelling any creeping sensation of loneliness, and the reminder that Spyro would never, ever, be without an advocate. His brother was the one thing that had always been there, even when times were bad and near-certain death was at hand. He had been with him when Spyro had been distraught and filled with guilt that Ignitus had been captured because of his momentary inability to fight back, been there when the Well of Souls had collapsed upon him and Cynder, and Spyro had aroused the Dragon Time within him and encased them in crystal, preserving their lives until the current danger had passed.

Life without Sparx was unthinkable, just as life as something other than an overgrown dragonfly had been unthinkable three years ago.

Spyro wasn't _ready_ for this. His body may have matured slightly in the time they had been trapped, but his mind was still that of an eleven year old, scared witless for himself and everything that was happening, and knowing that it was up to _him _to make it end. Three years was too much time, and too little was left for it to sink into his mind. He didn't know enough to stand a creditable chance against a being that had defied the laws of life and death, and escaped the spiritual realm to unleash inconceivable damage on those who had wronged him.

If he lay awake for long at night, this knowledge battered at him, forced him to cringe and raise his membranous wings in front of his head as a weak, useless attempt at defence, interrupted by Sparx's acid comments that he needed to quit with the damned sleep-fighting already.

Sometimes, Spyro would sit with Hunter while the other two slept; listen to him murmuring quietly to the messenger falcon that perched tacitly on his shoulder. The cheetah would recite legends and myths of his tribe, speaking of them with such irreverence that Spyro became fascinated by the tales, making an effort to remember the details so that he could recall and tell Ignitus of them.

He had given up on inciting Cynder with the same curiosity; she thought them interesting, but couldn't quite grasp the idea of many of the elements. The only legends she had been privy too were Ape lore, which consisted only of accomplishments achieved in battle. Nothing like the songs and stories Hunter told.

Some, Spyro learned somewhat to his embarrassment, told of him; the purple dragon prophesized to bring order and peace back to the land and vanquish the Dark One once and for all. A dragon born only once every three centuries or so, clearly ignorant of the disturbing fact that Malefor was such a creature, too. The first one.

'_The Dark Master…he's returned hasn't he?'_

'_I'm afraid so. These are…dark times.'_

'_Then I have to stop him.'_

Yes, Spyro was scared. More scared than he'd ever been before. But from that fear, a certain unnerving calmness was born. They were all affected, were all breathless, knowing that soon, Spyro would confront the ancient dragon that had been blessed with unimaginable power, and abused it in genocidal betrayal.

In circumstances as dire as this, defeat was not an option.

**End**

**...Yeah...I was tired.**


End file.
